


Coulson is Dead

by Who_First



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Existentialism, Gen, Insanity, Spoilers for movie, or possibly stark raving sane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-05 23:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Who_First/pseuds/Who_First
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not quite sure how he got here, he remembers being someplace else, but this could be important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coulson is Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Written in the vein of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. Beta'd and helped with by Lectorel lectorel.tumblr.com

_If there are such things as fate, and nothing inherently possible can change your forgone conclusion, than one may desire not to live life in order, but to see what happens at the end and then go back to the beginning. It only makes sense that you would want to know the reason behind your fate when you might not live to see such a reason_.

The words echoed in his head, a soft feminine voice that sounded familiar, but not one he could ever remember hearing. Just words that appeared and took root in his mind for some purpose he wasn’t yet aware off.

The light stayed green. That was his first clue that perhaps there was something wrong with reality. It was the first among many clues, soon following behind it was the realization that there were no cars on the road. In fact the area seemed entirely to empty to be true. Anyone would love to drive with no other cars on the road, but this was ridiculous.

This was...someplace familiar...and there should be other people around. He walked some more, or at least he thought he was walking as the scenery continued to change every so often, and each light he came to stayed a bright happy green for the empty roads.

Standing in a large open park, the sky dark and dreary and more grey, as he took in the area. A second ago he had been standing at the street crossing and watching the green light. Another look around this world in shades of grey made him wonder if he had seen the green light, or if he had just thought it to be green. The trees surrounding him should be even greener than a light, but they looked flat and plastic with the lack of color and no visible texture of bark.

Another blink changed the scene to a sidewalk and he was walking forwards without knowing why. Wasn’t exactly the most important thing on his mind at the moment, that was reserved for why was he alone? And the world turned to grey?

It was disturbingly similar to some half memory, being unable to breath or move as the color faded away, until the world finally faded away.

He looked up with mostly blank eyes. He certainly didn’t remember coming to rest outside this tower. Building. Thing. There was something amiss here, something he’d already noted with the crawling unease going down his spine.

But then he also felt he was not correct either. He’d say that he remembered _not_ being here, perhaps there was somewhere else that he should be, but there was nothing at all to remember. Just empty blankness, one he wasn’t sure he appreciated.

He was just there. Which was better than not being there, but still just there.

“Sometimes things are not what they appear. Unfortunately other times are _exactly_ how they appear.”

He blinked in surprise, careful not to let it show on his face as he turned around to the soft voice. The voice was soft and feminine, he knew he’d heard it somewhere but it didn’t seem important.

The woman was seated on nothing, much like a ghost or an actor, just thin air and the smile on her face spoke of mourning. It was hard to tell, seeing in tones of grey seemed new and not at all contrived, but he thought there might be something wrong with the woman’s face as she leaned close.

She seemed uneven as reality seemed to distort around her. Like the world hadn’t decided yet what she properly looked like. She would look beautiful, she did, but then her form went foggy and he was afraid her skin would slip away. But part of her face always seemed aristocratic and proud, and that was what he focused on.

Her dress was layers of drapes, only serving to increase the illusion of uncanny movement. Behind her the trees and roads twisted like snakes, moving in ways that made his stomach twist in distress, it was like some other place was trying to interrupt his world.

“It is easier to simply watch.” She continued, smiling sadly while meeting his eyes. “But it is also easy to become caught up in the act before you realize where you will end up.”

 _I don’t understand_. Except he wasn’t sure he could just say that. He was sure if words even existed in this moment. And he couldn’t just come out and give her an advantage over him. Still there was something quite important that he was forgetting, something he really needed to _stop_ forgetting.

More sad smiles convinced him that there was something she had to tell him, something that she regretted. Her eyes stayed focused on him, a nice counter play to watching a tree bending in half and fading away behind her.

“Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do and die.” Half of her face was drooping lower in melancholy as she watched her hands. Once again an eye stayed solid and human, little bits of color flickering around the eye, but the other fell away into nothingness. “Fate is the ultimate deceiver and Death the ultimate equalizer.”

“Really?” His voice was bland which could have been surprising. He didn’t think he was a bland person but he might need someone else’s opinion on that to be sure. “Good to know.”

“Oh yes.” She turned fully to give the sunniest smile, still shadowed by grey clouds he couldn’t see, clasping her hands together on her lap as she smiled. “I know this for a fact. All things end the same, no matter if you are prince, hero, or…. nobody.”

“That sounds familiar.” W _hat was her name again? What was his name?_ Pausing as he examined her. There was still something wrong with how she looked, the slight fuzziness around the edges growing and waning, but it also looked like that fuzziness was spreading to his hands. “But I’m not sure why.”

“Perhaps the blood.” One delicate shoulder shrugged, a bench spreading out beneath her as he moved to sit next to her. “You cannot live life without the blood, it always comes down to that, that and death. Which is quite often the _cause_ of blood.”

He eyed her from the corner of his eye as she stared thoughtfully ahead. Anger fought with the numbing feeling, something he couldn’t put his finger on disturbing him about how she spoke.

“Is there a point to your words Ma’am?” The words a bit cool, but not showing much of his irritation.

“Just words that need to be spoken. Death shall always come to the guilty and innocent alike. Everyone has a part to play, and must play to their part. Life is a tragedy we must all play along to.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.” His soft eyes wrinkled at the corners, having the strangest urge to laugh at her familiar sounding words. He was getting a little hysterical. “If I had a part to play, shouldn’t I be busy playing it? Instead of being someplace of no use, you understand.”

“Possibly you’re not thinking quickly enough.” She conceded, sad smile slipping away to her ever foggy skin, face turning morose as she watched him. “Does time really go in order? Are you sure you are still part of time? Are you sure you still have a part left?”

She paused, one darkly grey eye watching him, cocking her head again as he waited impatiently for the next question. The riddles and jarring words were beginning to give him a headache. A hand reached out, drawing back before she could actually touch him.

“Do you know who you are?”

“Agent Coulson of S.H.I-“ He paused, frowning in irritation, as the answer slipped away again.

“Almost.” She looked understanding about his amnesia, he got the idea she dealt with it a lot, still morose but understanding. “The river Lethe is a powerful drink indeed.”

“Is it?” He asked carefully, raising an eyebrow as she simply cocked her head and smiled again in silent answer. “I think I should be on my way.”

“Of course.” She gave him the soft smile again, hands shifting back to her flowing gown. “I shall not keep you from your duty. I only ask that you should concentrate on what matters.”

“And what is that Ma’am?”

She merely smiled, brief pity changing to soft sadness as it filled her eyes, and waved him away. Fog wrapping it’s way up her legs as she sat primly.

And he, _Agent_ , turned to look at the building. It was large and familiar and-

“It was lovely to meet you Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

He looked back over his shoulder to see an unchanging and empty world, one with a lack of traffic and women who bent and twisted reality. Half hoping that she would come back.

~~~

The food was not decent. Or what he would call food if he could help it. Very bland even with generous portions of salt and pepper dumped on top, but it was still food and there was something to be said for having the time to eat. Or possibly just eating. He had the feeling that even _this_ food should not be so tasteless.

The food was the same grey as everything else and the taste of nothing, no sign that there was anything in his mouth, it might be easy to eat his jacket sleeve. That or just live with swallowing air.

But there were people around him at the many tables, all talking loudly. Which he knew wasn't new but it _felt_ new and exciting. If they would look at him or interact with him it would be even better.

The grey food received an analyzing glance, distrust and annoyance warring on his face, before he picked up the smallest amount with his spoon. The food was brought up and eyed even closer, the spoon turned around a few times until he decided that the food was indeed disturbing.

M.R.E. The word popped into his head as some food equally disgusting, one that might be an improvement on the feeling of eating fog. Another distant memory, he couldn’t quite name, reminded him of the true purpose for such food.

The spoon was twisted again, pulled back like a true catapult, and released. 

It smashed wetly against a black suit on a wildly gesturing man, making his lips twist slightly in almost satisfaction. Then he glanced away, attention drawn with everyone else’s to the front of the room as two men passed by yelling loudly.

A wave a fondness and irritation passed through his chest, as they continued shouting at each other. One tall and blond man, _soldier_ his memories whispered, the other dark haired, shorter, slimmer, and _stubborn_ , gesturing widely as they argued.

The agent watched as they continued, feeling hope that they might be too busy arguing to take over the known world, the figures turning grey just before vanishing.

Looking back, he saw that the food splatter was gone, dark.

He sighed heavily. One more clue to reality not working. Good to know.

Another pause, sudden silence filling the room, looking up in exasperation. The fork was set to one side, as he bent his arms over the table and sat.

~~~

The slim cell was in his hand and being dialed before he realized it was in even there, he wasn’t even sure what the numbers he was dialing were, but he knew it was a new phone from someone.

Okay so his memories were still MIA… But he remembered he was Agent Coulson of something, and he remembered talking with a woman who seemed to have all the answers, and then he remembered he was supposed to be doing something important.

“Barton has been compromised.”

The words came out like they had been rehearsed, or at least said many times over and perhaps that was true, but they were important words that needed to be said. Even with the feeling filling his chest with phantom pain. He remembered that he was trying to get help for a problem and most likely he helped people like _Barton_.

 That was good to know. Even if he wasn’t sure who he was it was still good to know that he was a man who cared about others.

 _Barton has been compromised_.

The words were his, and he recognized the pain in his gut as coming from fear, uncertainty, and the knowledge of something he didn’t want to say. Barton and the person on the phone were important _but who were they again_? Oh, no, never mind, they were his friends.

He was positive of that.

“Give me a moment.”

The cold female voice filled his chest with hope and relief, still not quite sure why or how, but he watched his surroundings while rocking back and forth on his feet. Anger still wound through the hope and relief, someone else had compromised Barton and he needed to know that she would save him/

A few feet away a different woman, _the_ woman, was walking down the hall away from him, and the room was empty again, while a dial tone sounded in his ear.

_No! He didn’t know if she would make it yet!_

“Wait!” Coulson yelled at the retreating figure, _was that who he was?_ , stalking after her. He needed answers that _weren’t_ riddles. “That wasn’t how it ended! Why do you stop it in the middle?”

“Are you sure?”

She turned around looking at him with the dead eye. Her voice was cool against his anger, letting him realize he was overreacting at that was _not_ normal. He stopped himself, letting her watch as he took a deep breath and _thought_.

“I do believe we still are in the middle but I may be wrong.” Her voice was still on the cool side, and the corridor behind her was splitting apart, showing grey skies. “And you know how it ended. If you didn’t already know, then you wouldn’t be here.”

“Is there something you are trying to inform me of?” Coulson asked coldly, taking slow measured steps after the tall women. His voice going bland as he continued, very aware over the danger from the stronger force, he was stepping towards.

“It would help if you stopped talking in riddles and gave me a straight answer. I would even appreciate it.”

She watched him with dead and alive eyes, blank of expression, just watching as he fought through the fog clouding his memories. She started walking again as he followed just behind to the right. It felt familiar, just not with a woman trailing fog and breaking his world.

“Fate, Agent Coulson.” She said finally as they wandered down empty halls. In the distance he thought he heard screaming. “There is nothing to stop it, nothing to halt it, you just hold on as best you can.”

“I thought you said there is nothing to stop it?” At her nod he stepped faster, realizing how tall she was as he couldn’t outpace her, and glaring disappointedly at her back when she wouldn’t turn back to him. “Then why try to hold on?”

“Well do you know where you are in your part?” She asked diplomatically, the thinner hand waving, walls falling as she walked into a lab. “Because that helps.”

Coulson gave her a sardonic smile, attention turning to a slight figure with wild hair bending over a computer, before looking back at the woman. _He was used to wiseasses like her, in fact his favorite wiseass was his archer, but he was-_

~~~

The room was cold, meant for the dead and not the living, and Coulson glared as she wandered around. He felt insulted for the many cloth covered bodies as she gently touched each figure once. Instead it was just better to ignore her, easy enough when people came in and started talking around them.

_“Director Fury asks that we complete the autopsies as quickly and efficiently as possible.”_

Coulson could make out a few whispered words about how the Director would have phrased it differently. Still he decided to ignore the words as the covered bodies were pushed around the room by blank faced white jackets.

The world stayed in place. He was, admittedly, surprised by how careful she was. It was unusual when before it seemed she paid no attention to their surroundings.

 _“He feels that there will be more casualties during the cleanup, so we cannot fall behind._ ”

Coulson’s hands twitched, to say _that_ in front of the silent figures was more disrespectful than the woman checking the nametags of each victim. At least she was being careful and quiet, as she paid her respect to each fallen warrior.

He stepped closer to the woman, feeling the need to be with someone who saw him, still not daring to touch her, as one tear trailed down the porcelain cheek. The tear surprised him after her quiet sadness of before.

She pulled back the white sheet, staring down into a blank face devoid of life. The face looked vaguely familiar and Coulson felt guilty for not remembering the agents’ name when he died for the cause, for their existence, just watching in silence with regret filling his heart.

He imagined his face make be identical to the sad regret on hers.

“Who is he?” He asked quietly, intimately aware of their cold surroundings, and the need for respect.

“He’s dead.”

~~~

He blinked in surprise. The scene had changed again without his knowledge. He was standing in downtown New York with an ice cream cone in hand. A tentative lick suggested that the treat was both real and quite tasty unlike the grey nothingness from before.

It tasted like pineapple and other fruits, bright orange and gold against greyness, and yes, very tasty. Much better than food that felt and tasted like nothing.

At least he thought it was before, the woman’s words were beginning to get to him. Perhaps insanity was communicable. Maybe not. If that was the case, he had to have been insane long before he ever met her.

 “Is this the end?”

She laughed and stole his ice cream. Ice cream makes everything just the tiniest bit better. Even for the terminally depressed.

“If it was, Agent, then it would be a terrible ending.”

He gave her one of his specialty blank looks, used primarily on someone he couldn’t place just yet, but she just laughed deeply, looking tall as her shadow stretched.

“Or perhaps it is the beginning or middle.” She licked carefully around the frozen treat, one hand folded in his draping dress, keeping the folds above the ground.  “Certainly not the end, unless that is dependent on your view.”

“Is it possible for you to give straight answers ma’am?”

“Certainly not.” She laughed again and handed his half eaten ice cream back, giving it a fascinated look, and licking the normal looking fingers. “My mother taught me better.”

There was an intense urge to ask who her mother was but Coulson just pushed it back. Knowing instinctively that, that was not an answer he was ready for yet. Such things simply occurred to him, like the idea that she should have her mother’s green eyes.

“Good to know.”

In the end he could only accept it.

He glanced around, somewhat surprised that the scene hadn’t changed yet, even though it was still twisting and fuzzy for the most part. He watched as five men and a woman fought against forces he couldn’t quite make out through the snaking shadows. It was all in the background.

“Or foreground, depending on how you look at it.”

He ignored her light words, also ignoring the way she eyed him before leaning forwards and snagging more of the treat. Coulson thought she might not have ever tried ice cream before, so this was more to his benefit than hers.

But he could see the heroes fighting together, happiness and satisfaction warring with the fear and regret in his chest, and Coulson smiled as they broke apart to rescue civilians. If he enjoyed grinning, he would have when his eyes rested on the man shooting arrows into the shadows.

“Death.” Coulson spoke softly as he hoped they would not fall. “You never notice death at first.”

“Very abrupt Agent.”

She stepped away from him and his treat, the smile falling away as she walked to the misty shadows of civilians. Coulson’s next words were slow and thoughtful as he watched her touch faces of vanishing people.

“You step out a door, and never step back.”

“A very true observation.”

She brushed her hand over a tiny face and Coulson felt more relief as she started passing over more and more people that the heroes were helping. She sent him another look, one he translated as her own relief amidst the sadness.

“The tragedy of death, as such, is for the living. The dead are beyond it.”

“Are you sure?”

Coulson watched as the scene blurred and shifted, the fighters stopping as the shadowy figures vanished completely, and he was falling as the world breathed in relief. Coulson breathed in relief as the vast green figure caught him at the end. One more thing he could feel relief for, his memories trickling back into almost cohesion.

“Did I matter? Or was I just part of the _plot_?”

“Everyone is part of the plot Agent.” She smiled, a little less sadly, as she left the bright cheering figures alone and touched his arm. “Otherwise the world would fall apart.”  

~~~

Coulson sat at one end of the table, next to his archer and red headed agent, with the sad woman on his other side. The hand was hovering just above his arm, skin looking too tight, but she let him pay attention to the table’s true occupants.

They all talked very loudly, Coulson knew they would never be able to talk any softer, tossing words back and forth as they ate and laughed. It was petty, but he was happy that behind the joy at life, there was still sadness.

He hoped some of it was for him.

“Thank you.” Coulson wasn’t sure if the words were directed at his uncanny companion, or the people he was so proud to have known. Heroes and friends he couldn’t quite remember... But he knew they were important, and they had been saved.

“They made it.” He said softly as they continued laughing. “It’s good to know.”

“It is indeed.”

The coldness of the restaurant twisting out of shape slipped over his arms, and sunk into his chest.

“For what it’s worth…”

Coulson looked up sharply as her voice hesitated and paused in the dead silence. It was the most apropos usage of the term. Silence as dead as his surroundings. He understood everything now, a little late, but he supposed in some way it was worth it. At least he had a reason and the knowledge that…

Well that everything turned out alright in the end. He had seen the proof of that.

And she was once again regarding him in sadness.

“What?” Coulson’s voice was quite steady, he would not be breaking down now when it would change nothing, as he met her sad eyes.

One living blue eye and one eye dead and milky white with decay. This was the first time he could truly see her. Taller than should be possible in the room. Half of body was a healthy ivory, if a bit sun deprived, and beautiful.

The other half of her body was as dead he thought he might be.

“Would you apologize?”

“No.”

Her hands were folded together, and it really was different to finally see what his brain had been screaming out this whole time, nails rubbing together and she found the words.

“No choice needed to be involved. You would have done the same, had you known your fate before you completed it. There is nothing _to_ apologize for.”

She paused again, the soft sad smile that he had first seen reappearing.  

“That would only be an insult to your sacrifice.”

 _Oh_. Coulson blinked as she stood from the blankly white chair and waved a hand. Their surroundings shifted before Coulson could even blink and understand. And now…

He was leaning against the wall, hand over his chest and feeling the seconds of life pouring away from him, blood filling his mouth and making it hard to breathe or think.

And there she was. She really was a goddess Coulson decided. She looked much too large, larger than life, to be standing in the helicarrier. He watched, almost amused, to see agents he couldn’t place running through her as they panicked.

Coulson could see the large man striding towards him, remembering the look of annoyance and the one eye. This was… Fury. His boss and old friend.

She leaned forwards and they both ignored him, even as Coulson knew somewhere he was speaking to his oldest friend, and touched a finger lightly against the gaping wound.

Coulson had so many questions now that he knew what and how to ask. But there truly was little time left and…

“Would you ask if there was another way? Or is there something more pressing?” Her face was blank, for the first time she was completely devoid of emotion and looking much more like the goddess of Death he knew she was.

This was it. His last chance. He knew she would answer whatever he asked maybe even pass on a message to his precious people.

“I am relieved. I did everything possible. I have no regrets or questions. Thank you for the time.”

The smile she gave him was relieved and proud. For the first time without sadness. Coulson finally realized that the sadness had probably been his own, just seen through her eyes.

“Fair and well met Agent Phil Coulson of Shield.” She took his hand in her dead fingers and pulled him gently. “I am happy.”

Coulson gave her his almost smile, lips tilting up at the corners and the corners of his eyes wrinkling with laugh lines, and squeezed the dead flesh and bones.

“Till next time, Lady Hel.”

In the end questions were pointless.


End file.
